Chương 5
“No.”
The answer came firm enough that Sophie blinked.
Rachel crouched.
“Your father died in a car accident. We had an argument before he left, and I have been sad about that for a very long time. But an argument did not make his car cross the road.”
Sophie’s breathing became shallow.
Rachel took her hands.
“Aunt Vanessa told you something that made my mistake sound like the cause of the accident. It wasn’t.”
“What mistake?”
“Fighting with Dad.”
“Did Daddy make mistakes?”
Rachel nearly smiled.
“He made a spectacular number of them.”
Sophie did not smile back.
“Did you want him home?”
The question found the exact place Vanessa had meant it to find.
Rachel sat on the bathroom floor.
Her champagne satin blouse creased under her as she leaned against the cabinet.
“Yes.”
Even now, saying it hurt.
“I wanted him home. I wanted him alive. I wanted him annoying me about the thermostat and leaving cabinet doors open and putting his stupid protein shakes in my good glasses.”
Sophie looked down at their hands.
“You said stupid.”
“I did.”
“You say that's not nice.”
“It’s not.”
A pause.
“Daddy’s protein shakes were stupid.”
Rachel laughed once.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Sophie’s mouth twitched.
Then her face folded.
She climbed into Rachel’s lap.
Rachel held her.
Sophie did not scream or sob. She made small broken sounds against Rachel’s blouse and tried to hide them.
Rachel looked toward the bathtub.
The dress lay in a red heap.
She thought about photographing it.
The idea disgusted her.
Then she thought about the recording.
About Vanessa saying, You know why your dad was driving that night?
Rachel reached for her phone.
She took three pictures of the dress.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she had two children now, and wanting had become a luxury she distrusted.
Downstairs, Helen was cleaning the floor.
Rachel found her twenty minutes later on her knees with paper towels pressed over the last pink shadow near the chair.
“Leave it.”
Helen looked up.
“I’m almost done.”
“Leave it.”
Helen sat back on her heels.
Her beige cardigan had a red spot on one cuff.
Rachel noticed it and hated herself for noticing it.
Ethan was at the table eating the birthday pretzels directly from a serving bowl.
Rachel said, “Use a plate.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then, absurdly, they both laughed.
It lasted perhaps two seconds.
Helen began crying again.
Ethan stopped laughing.
Rachel pulled a chair out.
“Sit down, Helen.”
“I can finish.”
“Sit.”
Helen sat.
Rachel took the tablet from the counter.
“I’m going to copy the video to my phone.”
Helen nodded.
“I’m also backing it up.”
Another nod.
“I want to know every time Vanessa has been alone with Sophie since Daniel died.”
Helen looked at Ethan.
Rachel said, “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”
“I don’t keep a log.”
“Neither do I.”
Helen rubbed the red spot on her cardigan.
“She’s taken Sophie shopping.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
Rachel waited.
“And to lunch.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Four? Five?”
Ethan said, “More.”
Helen looked at him.
He crunched a pretzel.
“Sorry.”
Rachel said, “What else?”
Helen’s shoulders sagged.
“She picked her up from school twice.”
Rachel stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa isn’t on the pickup list.”
“You added her last year.”
“For Daniel’s funeral week.”
“I thought she was still—”
“You thought?”
Helen bristled.
“I was helping.”
Rachel stood.
“Mom.”
Ethan’s voice stopped her.
He rarely called Helen Grandma when he was scared. He called Rachel Mom in a particular way instead, as though the word itself were a handle he could grab.
Rachel sat again.
“Okay.”
She opened the school app on her phone.
Vanessa’s authorization was still active.
Rachel removed it.
Then she changed the emergency contact order.
Her hands were steady now.
Helen watched.
“You think she’d take Sophie?”
“I think I don’t know what she would do.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“You said she wouldn’t pour punch on her too.”
“I never said that.”
“You would have.”
Helen looked down.
Rachel hated how quickly anger could become mean.
She put the phone away.
“What has Vanessa been telling you?”
Helen looked confused.
“About what?”
“Me.”
“Nothing.”
Rachel waited.
Helen lasted eleven seconds.
Then she said, “She thinks you blame our whole family for Daniel.”
Rachel almost answered.
Instead she looked at the pink frosting on the cake.
One sugar flower had tipped sideways.
“What else?”
“She thinks you’re planning to move.”
Rachel’s eyes lifted.
That one was true.
Not planning exactly.
Considering.
A recruiter from a healthcare company in Minneapolis had contacted her three months earlier about a senior finance position. Rachel had taken two calls and one video interview before deciding she could not uproot the children so soon after Daniel’s death.
She had told nobody except Helen.
Not even Ethan.
Helen saw recognition on her face.
“I didn’t know it was private.”
Rachel stared at her.
“I told you I hadn’t told the kids.”
“You didn’t tell me not to tell Vanessa.”
Ethan stopped chewing.
Rachel asked, “What did Vanessa do with that?”
Helen rubbed her hands together.
“She was upset.”
“Why?”
“They’re Daniel’s children.”
“They’re my children.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Helen’s face hardened.
“You don’t have to speak to me like I’m stupid.”
Rachel leaned back.
“No. I don’t.”
A long silence followed.
From upstairs came the muted sound of Sophie’s television.
Some animated animal was singing.
The ordinary noise made Rachel’s throat ache.
Helen said, “After Daniel died, I kept thinking the children were the only part of him I had left.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Don’t say that in front of them.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“I know they’re people.”
“Do you?”
Helen flinched again.
May you like
Rachel looked away.
The backyard beyond the windows was bright enough to hurt. A pastel banner hung crooked over the patio doors. Daniel had installed the little hooks himself because Rachel refused to tape decorations to painted trim.
